


Melody Malone: The Angel's Kiss

by FlyMeToTheM00n



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Book - Freeform, F/M, Melody Malone - Freeform, The Angels Take Manhattan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyMeToTheM00n/pseuds/FlyMeToTheM00n
Summary: What was the book the Doctor and Amy read in New York? What was in it? What exactly did River write all those years later? Read and find out!





	1. The Skinny Guy

New York growls at my window. But I was ready for it.  
My stocking seams were straight, my lipstick was combat-ready, and I was packing cleavage that could fell an ox at 20 feet.  
My name is Melody Malone. This is a clever lie, of course.  
But one, having seen the things I’ve seen, must learn to remain well hidden.  
I’ve got ice on my heart, a kiss on my lips and a vulnerable side I keep well hidden.  
Almost as well hidden as my name.  
I was ready for an adventure. I had been requested about two weeks ago. A man named Sam Gardner, who was a private detective like myself. He had a case for me. A case that, as he described it, was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. I would have to let go of how I saw the world before. I would have to believe in the impossible. Lucky for you, I told him, I believe in the impossible. How could I not? After the things I’ve seen.  
And so I came to New York, searching for an adventure. I had been working on the case for two weeks now with little progress, until that rainy evening.  
My heels clicked on the New York streets. The honking of cars was audible in the distance. New York was, even in 1938, a very busy city. A city that never sleeps.  
As I strolled through the quieter streets of the famous city, I hid my stunning figure in a tall rain coat. Underneath it I wore a gorgeous sparkling black dress, that showed off my curves in all the right ways. My heels were high, higher than they should be, for a seemingly unarmed woman walking by herself in the middle of New York.  
One might say I was asking for it.  
My hands were buried deep in the pockets of my raincoat. Placed fashionably on top of my head was a fedora, the exact colour of my coat.  
Underneath it were my gorgeous blonde curls, now neatly tamed into the fashion that was accustomed for New York in this day and age.  
Nonetheless, I looked attractive.  
I always did pull off a nice vintage look.  
I walked across the New York streets with much confidence.  
New York is a dangerous place. Even in my grey raincoat I seemed to attract attention. Maybe it was the heels. Or perhaps the hat.  
I pranced royally, when suddenly in the corner of my eye I spotted them.  
Two men dressed in black had been following me for a few blocks now, silently whispering something about what surely would be my possible demise.  
They attempted to be discreet, but I have had my fair share of stalkers to know when I was being followed. The two men kept hidden in the shadows. One was taller than the other. They were dressed in long coats and a hat, attempting to remain anonymous.  
I picked up my pace. Not because I was scared, but simply because I was eager to know more about the men. Who hired them? Why did they want me? My brain rattled with questions. I took another turn, then. I was already thinking of a wonderful plan to disarm them. One that would leave me without a scratch, and would leave them surely unconscious.  
As I crossed the street, I saw the thin guy. But he didn’t see me. I guess that’s how it began.  
I followed the skinny guy for two more blocks before he turned, and I could ask exactly what he was doing here. He looked a little scared so I gave him my best smile and my bluest eyes.  
“I just went to get coffee for the Doctor and Amelia.” He responded. Confused? You might be. Not as confused as he himself was at that very moment. He was clearly puzzled to see me. That much was clear. But the skinny guy appeared to be looking around himself. As if he had gotten somewhere yet hadn’t got a clue as to how he got there in the first place. He wasn’t dressed like the rest of us. 21st century wardrobe, I quickly noted. In his hand he had a coffee tray of a famous coffee place that didn’t exist yet, and wasn’t to be invented for many years. Oh, yes, I thought. 21st century undoubtedly.  
“Hello.” I uttered, making myself known to the man.  
“Where am I? How the hell did I get here?” He looked scared now. Possibly trembling when he noticed the two hitmen approaching us in an intimidating manner.  
The skinny guy’s name was Rory. I knew him well, and he knew me. By a different alias, of course. But that is a secret between him and me.  
It was as much of a mystery to me as it apparently was to him as to why he appeared on this exact spot.  
“I haven’t the faintest idea. But you’ll probably want to put your hands up.”  
Rory dropped the coffee tray then. It spilled on the New York streets as he turned around, his arms up now, and undoubtedly trembling. It was then that he first noticed the two men that had followed me for a couple of blocks now. They didn’t say much. They weren’t the kind who talked much-or at all, really. They pointed their guns at us. Whoever hired the hitmen must have known me very well. After all, he didn’t just send one hitman like any other would have.  
No, he sent two of his finest men. If I wasn’t being held at gunpoint I would feel honored.  
“Melody Malone?” The tallest man asked.  
“You’re Melody?” Rory looked behind him then, back at me. It was as if he forgot the gun being pointed at him for a mere second.  
The name was strange on his lips. He knew me well. Very well, indeed. Yet the name was new to him.  
“Get in.” The gun was being pressed against my tall raincoat now, and I could feel it prickling in my skin. A sound of a car hitting the brakes suddenly roused the night air. It stopped right in front of us. One inch closer and it would’ve hit us.  
Most cars in New York were black, but some are blacker than the rest. This one, for instance, had tinted windows. Perfect if you wanted to be unrecognizable. Or, in this case, if you had unwilling passengers in the back of your car.  
“What is going on?” Rory asked, still appearing to be in a state of confusion. I asked him what year it was for him. He responded with a raised brow. “April. 2011. How can the date be different now? I just went to get coffee, and-“  
I looked at him. How scared he looked. Unlike myself. I was very good at keeping my emotions hidden. And of course, I rarely got scared. Haven’t got the time. And I’ve seen far too many things in my life to have any fear left.  
“April 3rd, 1938.” I said. Not to him, but to the universe. “You didn’t come here by your usual way of transportation I presume.” I told him.  
“Why?”  
“You couldn’t have.”  
I looked at him, underneath the fedora that was stylishly placed on top of my head. My blue eyes appeared dark underneath it.  
“This city’s full of time-distortions. It’d be impossible to land the TARDIS here, like trying to land a plane in a blizzard. Even I couldn’t do it.”  
As you might’ve guessed by now, I was indeed talking about a time machine. My brain was rattling with possibilities as to how Rory could have possibly travelled back in time by himself.  
“Well, how did YOU get here?”  
“Vortex manipulator.” I showed him the cuff on my wrist. The machine had come in handy quite a few times now. At this point I had been in New York for two weeks. I’d been hired as a private detective, to solve a mystery unlike any other.  
“Less bulky than a TARDIS. Like a motorbike through traffic. You?”  
“I’m... not sure.”  
My eyebrows raised, but I didn’t ask any further questions. I had a suspicion of what exactly had transported Rory to 1938, yet I hoped that for once I wasn’t right.


	2. Julius Grayle

We stepped inside a tall, white mansion, Rory and I, followed by the tall men in black. 

I wasn’t stupid. I knew not to run. I was eager to find out who my captor was, so I could show him just what Melody Malone was really capable of.  
I quickly scanned the room, looking for any tiny detail that might tell me why I am here. My gaze fell on all the artwork in the large room.   
I noticed a large vase. 

A smirk appeared on my lips as my eyebrows lifted from underneath my fedora.   
“Well, early Chin Dynasty I’d say.” I commented on the vase.

“Correct. Are you an archaeologist as well as a detective?” 

The deep voice sounded from up the flight of stairs, and we all looked up at the man clad in the black suit.

“Oh, sweetie...” I purred. “I have many skills. So?”

I took another look around the large room, and my gaze fell upon a closed door. Nothing unusual there, of course. Besides the amount of locks it was sealed with. It must have been twenty locks just for one bloody door. Something very important must be behind it, and I was more than eager to find out.

“Early Chin Dynasty, just as you say.” The old man said, and walked down the stairs, his posture strong, yet he didn’t seem to walk with ease. Humans, they’re ever so fragile at an older age. 

Julius Grayle was his name. I learned this later. Much later. After I had showed the man just what happened when you mess with Melody Malone.  
“You are very well-informed.”

“And you are very afraid. That’s an awful lot of locks for one door.”   
I was very sharp, and made sure everyone in the room knew it. 

I walked away from the men who had held me hostage. I wasn’t afraid. They had gone through so much trouble to get me to this mansion in the first place. What use would it be if they were to shoot me now, I was clearly valuable to them, as I should be.  
Rory moved too, then. He looked around as well, clearly waiting for something- or rather, someone. He looked over at the vases now, finally figuring out that what I had said must have somehow been important. A hidden message for anyone who cares to listen.   
He looked at the ancient text and squinted his eyes, as if he would somehow pick up the ancient language that was written on it by staring long enough.

“It’s translating!” He shouted.  
“A gift of the TARDIS. It hangs around.”  
He read the text, and didn’t at all seem surprised at what he read.   
‘Hello sweetie.’  
The gentleman who held us hostage clearly got impatient. They had no use of Rory wandering about.  
“This one...” The old man pointed at Rory.   
“Put him somewhere uncomfortable.”  
“With the babies, sir?”  
“Yes, why not? Give him to the babies.”  
I hadn’t the faintest idea what they meant. Not yet, at least.   
Rory gasped in pain as the tallest of the men grabbed him tight. I watched him being forcefully removed from the room, and I wasn’t entirely sure if I would ever see him again. Because I was starting to have an idea as to what exactly we were dealing with. I prayed I was wrong.  
Still, I displayed no fear. Even when I could hear the faint sound of Rory’s screams in the background.  
I was escorted to another room. The room with the many locks on the door. It must’ve taken Julius fifteen minutes to get them all open, and I let an annoyed sigh escape past my red painted lips as I waited.  
After a considerable amount of time the final lock opened, and we both stepped inside. It was the old man’s office, I presumed. He must have been a collector. All around the room there were old art works. Varying from the subtle age of a hundred years old to, well, early Chin Dynasty. Another vase, I noted. The old text translated right in front of my very eyes.   
I chuckled softly.   
‘Yowzah’ The text said.   
I knew only one man which would travel all the way to ancient Chin just to put a silly text on a vase, in the hopes that I would read it.   
“Hello, sweetie.” I purred.  
I took my coat off my shoulders, displaying, for the first time that evening, my gorgeous black dress and plunging neckline.  
I turned back to hand my coat to the old man, and started wandering around the room, my heels clicking on the marble floor with every step that I took.  
“Let’s see. Crime boss with a collecting fetish. Whatever you don’t want anyone else to see has got to be your favourite.” I turned to the large curtains at the end of the room.   
“Or possibly your girlfriend.”   
I opened them in a swift motion, and was sure to look right at it when I did.   
I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was behind there.  
A statue stood there. An image of an angel. She was chained. The man wasn’t as foolish as he appeared. Scratches appeared all over the surface of the angel. The marble statue had it’s mouth wide open, displaying it’s pointy teeth. It appeared to be screaming. It was as if any second a deafening scream could emerge from it’s marble lips.  
“So, girlfriend, then.”  
The man wiggled his brows then.  
I turned my attention back to the time vortex on my wrist, typing in the coordinates. I could, of course, deal with the angels alone. But I was well aware of what sort of damage these creatures could do, and I had no wish to be forgotten. To be wiped off the earth as if I had never existed in the first place.   
“What are you doing?” The old man asked, not used to the technology I used.   
Of course, it hadn’t been invented yet.  
“Oh, you know. Texting a boy.”   
I smiled proudly. I knew who to call. The only man that could solve this problem. The only man that had defeated the angels before.  
I had to call a doctor.  
“These things are all over and people don’t seem to notice.” The man said.   
We were still looking at the chained angel in the room. As if somehow by holding it in our gaze it wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t devour us in an instant, or send us back in time. Somehow that small detail kept the creature from doing exactly that. Clearly the Angels were transporting people back in time. I figured that’s what they had done with Rory.  
“It never moves when you’re looking at it.”  
I didn’t need this man lecturing me. I was well informed on the angels.  
“Oh, I know how they work.”  
“So I understand. Melody Malone, the detective that investigates Angels.”  
He went on about me as if we were the best of friends, yet I didn’t seem to be listening any longer. I took a step closer to the statue, with all it’s scratches on it’s marble skin.  
“Badly damaged.” I murmured.  
“I wanted to know if it could feel pain.”  
“You realize it’s screaming? The other’s can hear.”   
My eyebrows raised as I put two and two together. I spun on my heels to gaze at the man’s fat face.   
“Is that why you need all the locks?”  
-click-  
My eyes widened. The lights had gone out for an instant. I could feel an iron grip on my wrist. I gasped loudly and turned to stare in the darkness.   
-click-  
The Angel’s face, staring right at me, deep into my soul. It had a strong grip on my wrist. I attempted to wiggle it out, but it wouldn’t move one bit. It was a threat. That was one thing I knew for sure.  
“You’re going to tell me all about these creatures. And you’re going to do it quickly” Julius threatened.   
I later found out about his name, and many more details about the man named Julius Grayle. After I had payed him back for what he did to me.  
-click-  
I gasped audibly now, feeling the angel grasp my wrist even tighter, and I moaned in agony.   
That was going to leave a bruise.


	3. Calling The Doctor

“The angels are predators. They’re deadly. What do you want with them?” My breath came out in gasps. The pain was incredulous. The Angel still had an iron grip on my wrist. I could feel it being crushed every second, and I was furious. Furious that Grayle had done this to me. I was already planning out my revenge in my head, making sure to let him feel even more pain.  
“I’m a collector. What collector could resist these? I’m only human.” He said, yet I knew he was lying about his reasons.  
“That’s exactly what they’re thinking.” I told him, knowing that these creatures were clever. Clever and vicious.   
The lights were dimmed then. Not quite a pitch black like Grayle had just done. It slightly dimmed and then went back on. The earth started shaking. “What’s that? What’s happening? Is it an earthquake?” Grayle yelled, attempting to hang on to whatever he could find.   
The air smelled electric. I had forgotten about the pain in my wrist. I knew then that He had come for me. The Doctor. My Doctor.  
“Oh you bad boy. You could burn New York.” I said, a smirk playing on my red painted lips.   
“What does that mean?” The old man yelled. I remained calm. Perfectly so. I had no fear. Only excitement to see Him again.  
“It means, Mister Grayle, just you wait till my husband gets home.”  
Mr Grayle was furious now. He opened his office door with a loud thud and left the room, eager to find out what was destroying his mansion.   
I remained where I was, trapped in the Angel’s hold. The TARDIS materialized right in front of the old man. The force field around the machine caused him to fall back, and him being the fragile age that he was, fell to the floor with a loud thump and was immediately unconscious. The TARDIS, a nifty time machine cloaked in the form of a blue phone box which happened to be much bigger on the inside, landed with a loud thump. It caused for the entire mansion to shake. Some of the expensive and irreplaceable Chin vases fell from their spot and shattered on the marble floor. Pity, I thought. Well, I never really liked them anyway.  
There he was, standing in the door opening. My doctor.   
I grinned. How handsome he looked. With stupid bowtie and all. He was one of a kind, that man. From his unusual dress style to his unusual personality. And I loved him for it. All of it.  
“Sorry I’m late, honey. Traffic was hell.” He said smugly. He enjoyed it when I looked him up and down, undressing him with my eyes. He was surely doing the same to me, his eyes lingering a bit too long on my plunging neckline. Not that I minded, of course. Not one bit.  
He commented on the unconscious older man lying in the door opening, saying he’ll be fine. I looked at the man in a degrading manner and practically growled. “Not if I can get loose.”  
The Doctor walked over to me. I could feel his breath on my neck. He looked at my wrist then, and I could tell he was wrecking his brain how he was going to get me loose.  
“So where are you now, Miss Malone? How’s prison?” He asked. He knew more about me than anyone else did. That clever man. Most of it I had told him. And other things he just... knew.   
“Oh, I was pardoned ages ago. And it’s Professor to you.”  
“Pardoned?”  
“Mmh. Turns out the person I killed never existed in the first place. Apparently there’s no record of him. It’s almost as if someone went out deleting himself from every database in the universe.” I gazed at him then, my eyes full of love when I looked at him. He looked back at me and smiled that smug smile of his. He tapped my nose with his index finger, as he often did. A sign of affection. As you might’ve guessed about now, the two of us were married.  
“Mmh. You said I’d got too big.” He responded.  
“And now no ones ever heard of you. Didn’t you used to be somebody?”  
“Well, aren’t you the woman who killed the Doctor?”  
“Doctor Who?”  
He chuckled at that, whipping out his sonic screwdriver. A device that no human of this day and age could possibly understand. Not yet, anyway. Not until at least the year 5120. He analysed the Angel’s claw, and the tight hold it had on my wrist.  
“She’s holding you very tightly.”  
Stating the obvious as always. I rolled my eyes. “Well, at least she didn’t send me back in time.”  
“I doubt she’s strong enough.” He told me.  
“Well, I need a hand. So which is it going to be? Are you going to break my wrist or hers?” I said, having gone quite impatient. The Doctor was lovely, but he was quite annoying when he was yammering on and stating the obvious. My statement was a joke, of course. I was certain he wasn’t going to break my wrist. He would never harm me. He loves me too much to do me any harm.  
Or so I thought.  
He was awfully quiet then, that man, and I could practically hear what he was thinking.  
“Oh, no... Really? Why do you have to break mine?” I said, more annoyed than anything else. As I’ve said before, fear is beneath me.  
The Doctor frowned and said, “Because Amy read it in a book and now I have no choice.”  
And there Amelia was, appearing behind the Doctor and walking through the door opening. Amy, the redheaded woman who travelled through time and space with the Doctor. But, well, that is a whole other story in itself.  
She was dressed in a similar fashion to Rory, clad in 21st century wardrobe.  
She saw me and smiled a sad smile, and held my free hand in a loving manner. She asked the Doctor if I was going to be okay in her lovely Scottish accent. He didn’t answer, just looked away. He always did know more than me.  
Amelia had a pained look. She appeared to feel guilty, yet I couldn’t understand why at the time. It wasn’t her fault the Angel held me so tightly. If anything, it was all mister Grayle.  
Out of his pocket the Doctor whipped out a strange book and opened it. I noticed it had a rather strange cover, but didn’t think anything of it at the time.  
“He’s in the cellar.” He said then, and I quickly figured he was referring to Rory.It was as if the book had told him. As if it had whispered something in his ear.   
He and Amelia got up then, and hurried over to the cellar. I waited for a moment, and of course he came back for me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before he went to look for Rory.  
He abruptly stopped, the strange book opened in his hand.   
I hadn’t a clue why he seemed so stiff all of a sudden. So vulnerable. The air around us changed, and he turned to me.  
“Doctor? Doctor, what is it? Tell me!” I practically screamed. He was scaring me. The only person in the universe who could.  
“Okay. I know that face. Calm down!” I told him.   
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t listen. Couldn’t. Just stared at the bloody book like he’d seen a ghost.  
“Calm down!”  
“No!”  
“Talk to me? Doctor!”  
We always did bicker like a married couple. Because, well, we are!  
“No!” He yelled again.  
He turned to me then, his expression cold. He never looked at me like that. It simply gave me chills.  
“You get your wrist out. You get your wrist out without breaking it.” He practically ordered me, like those words would somehow magically make the Angel’s claw vanish.  
My eyes widened with shock. I asked him how.  
“I don’t know! Just do it! Change the future!” He yelled, already turning his back on me and exiting the office.  
I hadn’t got the faintest idea why it was so important, but I’ve known the Doctor for a very long time now. I would have to get my wrist out- and very soon. But I couldn’t for the life of me break it.   
I did always like a challenge.  
After about fifteen minutes of pulling I screamed in agony. Blood seeped into my beautiful new dress. I couldn’t feel my wrist anymore. I decided that, if I ever wanted to get out of this wretched room, I was going to have to break my own bloody wrist. But I couldn’t tell the Doctor. I didn’t know why, but I simply couldn’t.   
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the pain that was to come. Looking back at it now, no force on earth could have prepared me for this excruciating pain. But I did get my wrist out. I quickly put on my coat, hissing in pain as I covered my bruised wrist.   
“Mustn’t let him see the damage.” I told myself.   
I decided to suck it up and pretend like it wasn’t there.   
Anything for him.   
Anything for my Doctor.


	4. The Roman In The Cellar

Meanwhile Rory was in the basement. Right before the man in black left him there to rot he had tossed him a box of matches.   
“Why?” Rory had asked.   
“It’s more fun that way.” The man said, a smirk on his lips as he threw the doors closed.   
Rory’s vision was now gone. The entire room was pitch black. He couldn’t see a thing. In the distance he heard the sound of locks closing.   
Great, he thought. He was going to either have to find some sonic device to open the locks from the inside, or he had to somehow search for another entrance. The fact that he was surrounded by nothing but pitch black didn’t help either.   
Rory wasn’t scared of the dark, however. No, he might look helpless, but he’s not. He might look young, but looks often deceived.   
Let me tell you a little story about this man. He appears fragile to any fool, but he is one of the strongest man I’ve ever known.  
He was alive two thousand years ago. He used to be a Roman soldier. A centurion, not quite human, yet he became human later on. He met Amelia then, and he waited two thousand years for her. He fell in love with her at first sight. For Amelia it took a little more than that. I remember one evening Amelia and I were seated together, and I asked her about the time she realized she was in love with Rory.   
“You ever look at someone, and you go: they look alright. Then all of a sudden you see them- I mean, really see them. And you finally realize they are the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen?”   
I smiled at that, listening with much delight to the tone of her lovely Scottish accent, and the soft murmur of her voice. She looked beautiful then, in the moonlight, seated close to me. Happy to be around each other when there wasn’t a life or death situation, but where we could just chat happily.  
I had always adored listening to her voice. To her stories. From the day I met her, a long, long time ago. I had always adored these intimate moments with Amelia.  
“To me…” She continued. ”…Rory is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” It was that night when I learned what love is. I had been in love before. Many times, in fact. I still am. But I never had a parent sit me down and tell me what love should really be like. Never had someone taken the time to explain what a healthy relationship should be like.   
But that night I learned.  
And I shall never forget it.  
Back in the cellar a sound was audible then. The distinct laughter of...   
“Do I hear children? No...” He grasped he box of matches as he descended carefully down the cellar’s stairs. “What did the man say again?” The sound of laughter came closer now. And a sound of a set of wings. Birds, Rory thought. It must be birds. What else would have wings?  
He pulled out one match and lit it quickly, just in time to see what had been approaching them.  
“Babies.”  
There, in front of him, were four statues. Marble statues of small angels. They might have looked innocent, but Rory knew better. He had heard stories of what they could do. It also explained how he was transported to the 1930s.   
The match was burning his finger now, yet he didn’t dare to let go. Was afraid of what the angels might do to them. He lit another one, and then another. It wasn’t long before the matches were nearly burned up. All Rory could do was stare at the angel’s face as it watched him hungrily. And waited. Waited for the matches to burn out. And then they took him. You see, the angels are patient. Very much indeed. They have all the time in the world, while you humans only have the blink of an eye before your life is over. But don’t blink. Don’t even blink when you see one of the Angels. Because when you look away for just one second, they will take you.   
And they won’t let you go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you guys think!!


End file.
